


Tracing Bad: It Gets Worse

by todouxmaka



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crack, Drama, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todouxmaka/pseuds/todouxmaka
Summary: On August 19, 2016, I wrote Tracing Bad. Now it gets worse.I do not proofread
Kudos: 4





	Tracing Bad: It Gets Worse

A starry night sky began to descend on the peaceful town of Snartly, Delaware. In the local Best Western, the cast of Overwatch were preparing for the Overwatch prom to celebrate the four years since release. On the second floor, Jack Morrison laid in bed with memories of sirens and 7-11 Big Gulp plaguing his mind. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door but Jack just turned away and closed his eyes.

“Why did I come here?” he repeatedly asked himself. Rather than go downstairs and mingle with the rest of the cast, he decided he would fake being sick. All he wanted was peace and quiet. Jack had already ignored countless knocks on his door and he was prepared to ignore many more.

However, he did not anticipate a knock on his window. Jack let out a heavy sigh and rolled onto the floor. He crawled to the window and moved the curtain aside, but there was no one there. Jack climbed the AC unit and peaked down below.

The knock came from the newly converted Christian Junkrat. The burnt up man in church pants is always hunched over but is incredibly tall on the rare occasion when he stands up straight. He waved to the grumpy old man with bags under his eyes. Jack responded with the friendliest of American greetings, the middle finger, before collapsing back onto his room’s floor. A few minutes of silence came to an end with another knock on Jack’s door.

“Hey, Mr. Morrison.” Junkrat called out the pile of regret behind the door. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, but I think I have something that will help you feel better!”

After some clicks, the sound of Christian rock filled the second floor of the Best Western. Jack buried his face in his hands and began to sob. To make matters worse, he could hear Junkrat rhythmically stomping on the ground. The idea of anyone dancing to Christian rock broke Jack. The man pulled himself off the floor and stomped towards the door.

The bedroom door flew open, and in a matter of seconds Jack’s foot was being acquainted with the wretched device playing Junkrat’s torture tunes. Junkrat’s variety of Fortnite dances ended with the man of the Lord on his knees begging Jack to stop. Once the speaker was reduced to nothing but a miserable pile of trash, Jack turned to return to his room.

“Not so fast,” Junkrat said. “I need to apologize for making you listen to my music against your will. Sometimes I forget that some people are still suckling the teats of the devil himself. I’ll pray for you.”

With one hand on the doorknob, the exhausted soldier retreated back into his room. He needed to calm himself down somehow. A nice warm shower should do the trick. The man walked over to his bag and grabbed a clean t-shirt and some sweatpants. Even though Jack has liberated himself from the sounds of Christians rocking out to the bible, the songs still haunted his mind.

Jack entered the bathroom and pulled open the shower curtain. The man sighed as he discovered a fully dressed cowboy playing Candy Crush on an inappropriately large iPad in the empty tub. McCree grabbed the curtain from the retired soldier and closed it back over. Too tired to deal with it, Jack threw his clothes back into the bag and stepped out of his room.

Thankfully, the burnt Christian skyscraper was nowhere to be seen. Jack took a deep breath and made his way towards the stairs. He hoped he could slip out of the building without being seen, but the nightmare was only just getting started. Upon exiting the stairwell, Jack ran into Winston. Excited to see soulless, old man, Winston ran over and wrapped his massive gorilla arm.

“How are you doing, old friend?” the gorilla asked Jack.

“I’m not your friend.” Jack’s reply caused the gorilla to erupt with laughter. What was intended to be a playful punch on the arm turned into Winton beating Jack to the ground. The now bruised man desperately tried to crawl to the door.

“Don’t be shy!” Winston grabbed the man by the ankles and dragged him to the ballroom. “I need to introduce you to my wife.”

Winston and his hostage entered the large room filled with cheap, ugly Party City decorations and the pre-approved tunes of Now That’s What I Call Music 359. The cast of Overwatch were seated throughout the room, most of them being bored out of their minds. On the dancefloor was none other the Christian menace himself doing what appeared to be off-beat squatting. The gorilla picked the old man up and sat him across a coat rack with nothing but the ugliest hat Jack had ever seen. 

“Jack, this is my wife. Catherine, this is Soldier76. His real name is Jack Morrison”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Jack was exhausted but he had no choice but to humor Winston. The last time someone angered Winston at an even, he lifted a Honda Odyssey and threw it at Doomfist. Although the soldier wanted to be anywhere but the Best Western, he also enjoyed having bones.

“Oh, I’ll ask him about it.” Winston pulled away from his coat rack and leaned in towards Jack. “Catherine says that she thought you were dead from the 2016 incident.”

Jack looked off into the distance. “I got better,” he replied. Winston peaked in the direction Jack was looking off into but only saw Genji with his face down in a bowl of ice cream. He wasn’t moving, but that wasn’t something Winston was going to worry about.

Afterwards, Winston went on to have a conversation with his life long partner. Jack couldn’t help but worry if it was nearby. After the incident in 2016, Tracer was captured by the rodeo clowns who flashbanged her into a coma, McCree and Ashe. Although Tracer was sentenced to execution by “being hurled into the sun,” you could never feel safe. When the Overwatch team set out to make a character that was quirky and annoying, they didn’t realize that she would be quirky and annoying.

A gentle hand on Jack’s soldier startled him. He turned to see Mercy’s devil counterpart, Satangela, standing beside him with her horns looking as pointy as ever. Her angelic face could put almost anyone’s suspicions about her intentions at rest.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“No.” Soldier gestured to the rest of the room and whined, “This is torture!”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Maybe I can help.” Satangela placed a small box on the table in front of Jack.

“Airpods?”

“Yes,” Satangela nodded.

“How is this supposed to help me?”

“Oh, you know. You can listen to Spotify without having to worry about wires ever getting tangled or caught on something.”

“I don’t understand.”

Satangela smacked Jack on the back of his head before proceeding to explain that pissing away time and money on garbage you don’t need solves everyone’s problems. But that being said, these airpods were not free. She wanted something from Jack.

“You know, I think you’re right,” Jack said. “The only way to forget about my current regrets is to make new ones.

“That’s the spirit!” Satangela clapped. “For one, all you need to do is agree that you’ll go to Hell no matter what.”

“Deal.” Jack and Satangela shook hands. Regardless of how Jack lived out the rest of his life, he would go to Hell. Jack grabbed the small box and excitedly opened it. His joy turned to confusion when he only saw one airpod. “What gives?”

“I said ‘for one,’ Jack. You agreed that for one airpod, you would go to Hell.”

“Well, how do I get the second one?”

“Oh, that’s simple. You have to make sure Junkrat goes to Hell no matter what.”

Jack looked back at the dance floor, but Junkrat wasn’t there. The devil standing beside him turned his head towards Junkrat, who was praying in the corner of the room. Jack could not imagine having to interact with Junkrat again, but Satangela informed him that all he had to do was trick Junkrat into doing the most evil sin.

After some contemplation, Jack decided he would do it. He synced the airpod to his phone and opened Spotify. With a deep breath, he stood up and made his way towards Junkrat.

The man who dressed nicely but smelt like a lawnmower noticed Jack approaching and pretended to ignore him. Jack turned around to Satangela, who was giving him a thumbs up. He sighed and began to apologize to Junkrat for how he acted earlier.

“Do you really mean that, Jack?” The rat was skeptical, but was willing to forgive Jack because the Lord told him to.

“Of course, Junkrat. In fact, I would like to make it up to you by letting you use my airpod and Spotify to listen to your music.”

“Please, Jack. My enemies call me Junkrat. You can call me Jamison Fawkes the Third.”

“Can I just call you Jamison?”

“No.” Junkrat placed the airpod into his ear while Jack hit play on his phone. The dedicated Christian gasped and yanked the airpod out. “Jack, how could you?”

By getting Junkrat to listen to 21 Pilots, Jack ensured that Junkrat would never make it to Heaven. The man of God turned to stone. It was over. Jack patted the stone rat on the head, picked up his airpod, and returned to Satangela.

The devil was beyond impressed that Jack chose Heathens out of all of the 21 Pilots songs. To not only succumb a Christian man to that band, but to also pick the song featured on the movie Suicide Squad was truly evil. Satangela gave Jack a coupon for a free 7-11 hotdog in addition to his now completed set of airpods, and sent him on his way. Jack skipped merrily out of the Best Western and made his way to the 7-11 around the corner while wirelessly listening to classic rock.

Jack ignored the stares as he danced around the convenience store and picked out a hotdog. Trauma prevented him from going for the classic Big Gulp. Instead, he went to the fridge and grabbed himself a cold can of Mountain Dew Gamer Fuel. After making his purchase, he went out to the parking lot.

Unknown to the old fart, something was lurking in the shadows behind him. Its legs were twice as long as its torso. It wore a charred chrono accelerator and a burnt house arrest anklet. Worst of all, it desired the sweet taste of revenge once more.

The pitter patter of the monster’s footsteps couldn’t warn Jack Morrison. He had his airpods in. The beast caught up to him and grabbed his undies from his pants to wedgie him. He screamed while it took a moment to appreciate that the man’s name was stitched into the elastic of the underwear. The monster then dropped the man on his ass.

Upon hitting the ground, Jack’s airpods fell out of his ears and rolled into a sewer drain. Jack sobbed as he turned to the monster behind him. He put his arms up to surrender, but Tracer wasn’t taking prisoners today. 

“Cheers, love!” She screeched, “It gets worse!”

The quirky and annoying character picked up Jack’s Gamer Fuel, shook it, and sprayed it into his face. Regardless of how much he choked, the soldier sat there and took his punishment. He couldn’t live on without his airpods.

The can ran out of fuel. Tracer reached into the bag and pulled out the hotdog. Tears continued to roll down Jack’s face and she ate the hotdog in front of him. That was it for Soldier76.

Without airpods or even a hotdog to eat, Jack’s body shut down. All of his organs stopped working and he collapsed on Tracer’s feet. The demon smiled and grabbed him by the ankles. A couple feet away, Hanzo Shimada watched Tracer drag Jack’s body out of the parking lot once more.

“Hmph,” Hanzo began. “Claims to be pro life. Dies anyway.”


End file.
